


Catch Not Break

by deathwailart



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 21:22:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2888363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathwailart/pseuds/deathwailart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Under any other circumstance, seeing Ruairidh Hawke again would probably have Varric smiling, maybe even singing.  But they're not the men they were when they met in Kirkwall and, as always, Anders casts a long shadow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catch Not Break

"It's not quite the Hanged Man," Varric says by way of apology as Ruaidhri manages a ghost of the smiles he remembers from better days, ushering his friend into his rooms in Skyhold, all of them having claimed somewhere around the fortress for their own when they want peace from everyone else.  
  
"Honestly, I've seen enough piss and vomit on the road to put me off for life. Still, it's a palatial suite, the inquisitor's looking after you."  
  
"Beira's more of a mother hen than you'd think."  
  
"So she wasn't exaggerating about the Seeker throwing a table at you?" Varric winces and Maker's breath, he knows how to put on an act, it's not as if life was a bed of roses towards the end in Kirkwall. "Varric..."  
  
"Come on! She would've tried to drag you to the conclave! You'd been through enough, I didn't want you to have to deal with that too, not when you and Anders were with other mages. Can you imagine how that would've gone?"  
  
To his credit, Ruaidhri winces, rubbing a hand down his face. "Don't think I'm not grateful, I am Varric, truly, I've never a had a friend like you but what you did for me was-"  
  
"Exactly what you would have done for any of us. Tell me – anyone ask to see that scar of yours from fighting the Arishok?"  
  
"Actually the big one? The one the inquisitor said counted as a rampaging horde on his own? He asked."  
  
"Well that's Tiny for you."  
  
And it's not quite the Hanged Man's speciality but horrible ale that burns all the way down and might make you blind is easy to come by and Varric always has some around. He doesn't drink as much as he used to, it's not fun without friends and here they might work together but not everyone spends as much time together. It's not like the nights of Wicked Grace and Diamondback. But he is who he is and there's plenty to catch up on and drink has always loosened Ruaidhri's tongue, silly stories from the road but there's precious little about Anders and Varric might be angry and bitter for damn good reasons but part of him still remembers that friend. A friend who offered a pillow, who joked and laughed, who pretended he didn't know who paid his tab and kept the thugs from darkening his door until he moved in.  
  
Sometimes he regrets introducing Hawke and Anders. Sometimes he's just glad they at least had a little moment of happiness.  
  
"You and Blondie..." He tries when they're on their third pint each, starting to feel it now, enough that he can relax in his seat and watch as Ruaidhri's smile gets lopsided the way he always denied whenever someone pointed it out to him. Varric's just glad to see it, the sort of ache he associates with Bianca and that's more of a kick in the gut than he can deal with, throwing back the rest of his ale.  
  
"I don't know anymore Varric I just..." Ruaidhri drops his head into his hands and an almost desperate sounding sob escapes him, a weak laugh following. "I don't know. I love him," and there's pain there, like it hurts to give voice to the words, "but you've seen how bad it is out there, you've probably seen worse than I have with the inquisition. I wanted us to have freedom but never like this, how could anyone want this sort of chaos and death, the injustice." He spits the word out and Varric has never asked what happened with Justice, not really, he doesn't bring it up with Solas and he keeps the thoughts buried deep, he doesn't want the Kid to have to deal with an old dwarf's hurt. "We've been together in the sense that we were in the same place, at the same time because I couldn't just abandon him but honestly? We haven't been together for a long time. Not really. We're not who we were, I know he certainly isn't and I don't think I am either. I just wanted us to be able to have lives and families without being feared and hated or barely tolerated and watched. I grew up on the run, Bethany and I having to hide from the Templars and father too, oh and whatever _else_ father was running from along with it. I thought Kirkwall meant I could stop, I could have a normal life." He laughs but it's not the laugh Varric remembers, not even when it was usually just him and Varric drinking together, Anders working feverishly on his manifesto and Ruaidhri not wanting to be alone in that house, rattling around like all the old ghosts peering round the corners.  
  
Varric does the only thing he can do, drags his chair over so they're side by side, letting Ruaidhri grab his hand and squeeze, his other hand wiping at angry tears.  
  
"Carver's a Warden, Varric. That was my fault for dragging him down there and if I lost him too-" Ruaidhri continues. This close Varric can see that he's aged. He's not the young man he met in Hightown but life on the run has changed him, more wrinkles at the corners of his eye that speak of frowning, streaks of grey at the temples he'd have called marks of distinction if they'd been back in Kirkwall. There's a scar too, a diagonal line that'd be easily missed unless you're close, cutting from top to bottom lip that ends an inch above his jaw. Varric wants to know the story as much as he doesn't want to. Even more, he wants to touch it and that's a dangerous thought with Ruaidhri still talking, still holding his hand like a drowning man. "I lost father before we ever left, Beth before we got to Kirkwall, almost lost Carver in the Deep Roads and I suppose I lost him in a way to the Wardens – Carver's going to hear the Calling one day after all – and then I lost mother because I couldn't keep her safe."  
  
"Ruaidhri," Varric murmurs, quiet but urgent.  
  
"And all this-"  
  
" _Ruaidhri_!" It's more forceful this time but he can't do this, as much as the man might need to lance the wound, Varric can't hear this, not from someone like Ruaidhri because it _hurts_ and maybe it's selfish but Varric just wants to be able to sit with him and pretend. "This isn't your fault, okay? None of this."  
  
"I know what I did Varric."  
  
"And who introduced you? Who said you should invest in the Deep Roads expedition?"  
  
"I could have said no."  
  
"Well it's not like you had many options at the time."  
  
"Varric," Ruaidhri's voice is still too shaky to be close to stern but it's the kind of tone he remembers the Hawke brothers adopting, drawing on Maker knows how many years of Ferelden dog lord stubborn reserve. "This isn't on you either. We're old enough to know we made mistakes along the way and we can admit that but trying to shoulder everything...it doesn't work. We just get on with it. Try to put it right. You're doing good work here, I almost wish I could be part of it but after Kirkwall-"  
  
"What did you _just_ finish saying."  
  
They laugh together, still too close to tears for comfort and Varric moves away to get something a little better to drink, a brandy Isabela recommended and that Ruffles procured, Antivan spices laced through it, warm with a very deceptive kick.  
  
"If there's one thing I'll never regret," Ruaidhri says when he returns, swinging his feet up to rest on the man's thigh, "it's meeting you. Don't interrupt, I'm sure you'll spin this very differently in a book – by the way tell Cassandra I signed hers, I might forget – but just let me say this. I am so glad you walked into my life that day. I would be all the poorer if I didn't know you. Everything that's happened...I wish so much had turned out differently but I would still want to have met all of you, especially you, and had the adventures we had."  
  
It's been a long time since Varric's been speechless the way he is now. He's had his fair share of holy shit moments, even silver tongues fail once in a while but this is something else. Ruaidhri's hand is warm on his shoulder, fingers curled at the collar of his coat, the rough hands of a force mage because they talked about it once, Ruaidhri joking that at last he had the hands of a working man. But they're always warm because he likes to throw fireballs at people and monsters and right now they're like a brand but welcome.  
  
As if Ruaidhri Hawke could ever be anything less than welcome in Varric's life.  
  
"Have I rendered you speechless?" He teases and Varric wants to scoff but Maker, he actually goes red and ducks his head, Ruaidhri crowding closer, beer on his breath and laughing, a real honest laugh. "Oh if I knew this was all it took."  
  
"Hey, maybe it's just you." It's meant to be a joke, a little sign that hey, they're still them but he's missed his best friend, honestly he's been worried out of his mind for him and when Ruaidhri just sits and _smiles_ at him with those big soft eyes, Varric can't find the words to tease him.  
  
When Ruaidhri twists in his seat and one hand finds Varric's chin, a question in his eyes, Varric leans forward and kisses him like it's the most natural thing in the world. His palms might be rough, thickened by magic that slams people into the ground but his fingertips are soft, running along Varric's jaw, up over his ear and into his hair and Ruaidhri has muscled arms that Varric grips tight, not wanting to let go as though this is all going to disappear like a puff of smoke. They have to, it's not like in the stories where a kiss can last forever and for a moment there's terror that this is a mistake, that someone took something too far, didn't read the signs right but Ruaidhri smiles and leans in again. They move to the bed – nothing happens, if it's going to then it won't be when he's just got his best friend back and when they're more than a little drunk – but it's the first time Varric can say he's slept soundly in a while and Ruaidhri looks young again in sleep, the years falling away as he relaxes even with the scar and the grey.  
  
Varric's never going to know what he did to deserve someone like this in his life but keeping him safe will always be worth nearly being killed by an angry Seeker twice.  


* * *

  
It's hard to let Ruaidhri go after Adamant but he has to. Varric needs to see this through and more than that, he wants to and Ruaidhri's got things of his own to sort out and with Stroud gone and the Wardens recruited, someone needs to go. It doesn't make it any easier to sit and write the letters in the main hall but he can't do it alone, he'll just sit up there and end up as broody as Fenris and honestly, he wants to be found when Beira appears with a smile, awkwardly sitting in a chair that's built for a dwarf that fits almost all elves and most humans but not really Qunari comfortably.  
  
"You're going to follow him, aren't you?" She asks, her soft voice no longer so jarring now. Honestly, as much as he sees her fight, it's hard to see her as a mercenary because when she's not fighting she's gentle and teasing by turns, sincere when she asks after someone when she knows humour will hurt more than it helps. Her and Iron Bull, Tal-Vashoth parents to mercenaries and misfits.  
  
"I meant what I said, I need to see this through."  
  
"I know Varric but after, when we beat Corypheus, you'll go up north after him won't you? To Weisshaupt?"  
  
"He'll be there, Carver too, maybe...maybe Anders. But he'll be there."  
  
She smiles, setting one big hand on his shoulder, marked with the same calluses that Ruaidhri has from a life of staves twirling and magic crackling at the fingertips. "Whatever you need when that day comes, you'll have it. You're kith, Varric, all of you."  
  
"Stop before you see a dwarf cry and you _definitely_ don't want to see that." But he's grateful, how could he not be? "C'mon, Hawke signed Cassandra's book, did you know? She's been walking around like the cat that got the cream."  
  
Beira laughs and lets him lead her out and down the stairs. Sometimes...sometimes life here almost feels like home again.


End file.
